Dominic hadn't anticipated his sister having such a silver tongue. He had coveted that extra room at the Barrett house himself, only to be rebuffed by the Chief with a vague excuse about keeping it ready for his married daughters' visits.

"She’s a city girl, soft as silk," Mark remarked, watching Evelyn settle in. He didn't think she would last a week under the harsh sun of the rural north. "Give it time. In a few days, she’ll be crawling back to you, begging for forgiveness once the blisters set in." It had taken Mark six months of grueling labor just to find his footing; he couldn't imagine Evelyn faring better.

Hazel was even less charitable. "Dominic, I’m not one to stir the pot, but your sister is truly vicious. You can’t go soft on her. If you don't teach her a lesson now, she’ll be at your throat with that blade again tomorrow. If Mark hadn't jumped in, you’d be in a coffin by now."

Dominic gave a grim nod. "Don’t worry. I won't be moved. Our parents aren't here, and as her brother, the burden of fixing her character falls on me." He took comfort in the thought that a little genuine suffering would eventually force her into submission.

That evening, with the help of Martha and her youngest daughter, Tess, Evelyn’s room was transformed. The furniture was sturdy and functional, and Evelyn quietly supplemented the space with small essentials pulled from her "storage." She wasn't worried about Dominic snooping; even if he dared set foot in her room, he hadn't been home in years. He wouldn't recognize his own family’s belongings if they hit him in the face.

Evelyn struck a deal with Barrett: two cartons of premium cigarettes would cover her first year’s rent. After that, they settled on a modest rate of one dollar a month.

In the local economy, a pack of Flying Bird cigarettes cost thirty-five cents and required a ration coupon—a luxury reserved for favors and palm-greasing. On the black market, where coupons weren't needed, a pack went for fifty cents. At five dollars a carton, her two-carton "deposit" was a steal for Barrett, especially since she had already "gifted" him a third carton for free.

Barrett, who usually settled for a cheap pipe or the occasional sixteen-cent Alba pack, went to bed that night with a grin so wide it hurt.

The next morning, as was custom for new arrivals, Barrett granted Evelyn a day of rest to find her bearings.

Evelyn wasted no time. She won over Tess with a jar of Mrs. Ward’s expensive cold cream and spent the afternoon touring the town on the village oxcart. By sunset, she had memorized the layout of the streets and, more importantly, identified the location of the local black market.

While she sent Tess into a state-run shop to fetch some meat, Evelyn slipped into the shadows of the black market. She needed a way to introduce the large iron cooking pot she’d stolen from the Wards into her new life.

When they reunited, Tess was breathless, clutching a pound of pork and some spices, but her jaw nearly hit the floor when she saw Evelyn lugging a heavy iron pot.

"You actually found one?" Tess stammered. In the village, iron pots were as rare as hen’s teeth; her father had waited six months on a list just to buy theirs.

"Just lucky, I guess," Evelyn said with a wink. "It’s second-hand. The owner needed cash urgently, so he let it go for twenty dollars."

Tess winced. It was a steep price for something used, but a pot was a pot.

The ride back on the oxcart was an interrogation. The villagers weren't shy about poking into her business: Where did the pot come from? Why was she staying with the Chief? Was she really a madwoman who tried to kill her brother?

Evelyn let Tess do the talking. As planned, Tess claimed the pot was sourced through her own family connections. As for the fight with Dominic, Tess—now firmly in Evelyn’s camp—was fiercely defensive.

"Is a sister just supposed to sit there and let her brother beat her? Is she not allowed to hit back?" Tess challenged the gossips.

"But a knife? Who uses a knife on their own family?" an old woman asked.

"Look at her!" Tess gestured to Evelyn’s slight frame. "She’s all skin and bone. If she didn't have something to scare him off, he’d have beaten her to a pulp."

Just like that, the narrative shifted. In the eyes of the village, Evelyn wasn't a lunatic anymore; she was a desperate girl defending herself. If the Chief’s own daughter vouched for her and was sharing her home, how bad could she be? Some villagers even began wondering if Barrett had "connections" for more iron pots.

Back at the house, Evelyn made sure to keep Tess involved in the final touches of the room. She knew that the best way to build a bond was to be a "helpful burden"—to ask for just enough help that the other person feels invested in your success. It was a lesson in social engineering she had learned through years of hardship in her previous life.

"Tess, I don't know what I would have done without you today," Evelyn said, her voice thick with gratitude.

Tess, normally blunt and boisterous, actually blushed. She had initially helped for the cold cream, but she was starting to genuinely like Evelyn. "You’re staying under our roof now. Don't mention it."

"I won't be formal then," Evelyn smiled. "But I've taken up your whole day. Let me cook us dinner. No arguments!"

Tess thought of the pork in her bag. She hadn't tasted meat all month. "Well... if you insist!"

Evelyn’s culinary skills were a weapon in their own right. She had spent seven years as Julian’s wife, catering to a family with impossibly refined palates. By the time the braised pork was served, Tess was nearly in tears. Compared to her mother’s functional but bland cooking, Evelyn’s food was a revelation.

The next day, the real work began. The rainy season was approaching, and the potato harvest couldn't wait.

Usually, the city youths worked in pairs to learn the ropes, but Dominic’s friends pointedly ignored Evelyn, hoping to isolate her. Barrett watched the petty display with a scowl. These students were supposed to be "intellectuals," yet they were acting like petulant children.

"Tess, you take Evelyn with you," Barrett barked.

Dominic watched them walk off, a cold smirk on his face. Let her enjoy the Chief’s favor for now, he thought. Favors don't dig potatoes. Evelyn looked far too delicate for the back-breaking labor of the fields. He and the others settled in, waiting for her to break.

But Evelyn wasn't the novice they thought she was. She had spent a decade working the earth in the mountains in another life.

She donned her gloves and moved with a terrifying efficiency. While the others were still complaining about the dirt, Evelyn was pulling weeds and uprooting stalks in one fluid motion, clearing the rows before doubling back with her hoe to unearth the stragglers.

Tess stopped, leaning on her own tool in disbelief. She was barely halfway through her row, and Evelyn was already heading back with a full basket.

"Evelyn..." Tess panted, wiping sweat from her brow. "Have you... done this before?"